Daniel pushed the two transfer orders toward me.

“Three months ago, my company offered me a senior position in Xinjiang.”

I stared at him.

“Three months?”

“I refused at first.”

“Because of your parents?”

He nodded.

“Then your company contacted yours.”

I blinked.

“My company?”

“They’re opening a project office in the same city. I asked whether they needed someone with your experience.”

Suddenly everything made sense.

The interview I’d had two weeks earlier.

The strange questions about relocation.

The salary review HR had called “routine.”

“You arranged this?”

“I opened the door. You got the position yourself.”

I looked at the order again.

The salary was almost forty percent higher.

Housing allowance.

Relocation expenses.

A promotion.

Daniel’s package was even better.

“But why wait until after the houses were distributed?”

His expression changed.

“Because I needed my parents to make their choice while they still believed we’d stay here.”

A chill ran through me.

“What choice?”

Daniel opened the locked drawer.

He took out the documents I’d seen that night.

Bank transfers.

Hospital payments.

Utility bills.

Renovation receipts.

Loan records.

Five years of expenses.

Our expenses.

Or rather…

Their expenses paid by us.

“I calculated everything,” Daniel said.

“In five years, we’ve given my parents more than 420,000 yuan.”

I stared at him.

“That much?”

“Your memory is generous.”

He gave a bitter smile.

“Mine isn’t anymore.”

There were payments I had forgotten.

The refrigerator.

My father-in-law’s dental work.

Their apartment renovation.

Sergio’s wedding deposit.

Even part of Sergio’s car.

“Why did you collect all this?”

“Because when the compensation was announced, Dad told me something.”

Daniel’s voice became colder.

“He said the houses would be divided between the two sons.”

I looked up.

“He promised you?”

“Repeatedly.”

“Then why give all seven to Sergio?”

“Because Sergio told them he’d give them grandchildren sooner.”

I couldn’t speak.

Daniel laughed without humor.

“Apparently, our value as children is now measured by reproductive speed.”

I remembered Lucía smiling beside the seven red folders.

My anger returned.

“So that’s why you applauded?”

“No.”

Daniel looked directly at me.

“I applauded because Dad finally made everything clear.”

Then he tapped the documents.

“The houses belong to Sergio.”

“The responsibility goes with them.”

I slowly understood.

“You mean…”

“We’re leaving.”

He leaned back.

“No more monthly transfers.”

“No more medical bills.”

“No more paying their utilities.”

“No more covering Sergio’s emergencies.”

“If they gave their assets to the son they believe needs them most, then that son can also become the person they depend on.”

My heart started pounding.

“That’s what you meant by ‘do it with both.'”

“Our transfers.”

He nodded.

“I was confirming both employment procedures.”

I stared at my husband.

Then started laughing.

I couldn’t help it.

Seven days later, the suitcases were packed.

And that was when the Ortega family exploded.

My mother-in-law arrived first.

She saw the boxes.

“What’s happening?”

Daniel answered calmly.

“We’re moving.”

“Moving where?”

“Xinjiang.”

Her face changed.

“Xinjiang?”

My father-in-law arrived twenty minutes later.

Then Sergio and Lucía.

Suddenly our living room became another family meeting.

Except this time there were no seven red folders.

Daniel placed one sheet of paper on the table.

Our departure date.

My mother-in-law nearly screamed.

“You can’t go!”

“Why not?”

“Who will take your father to the hospital?”

Daniel looked at Sergio.

“My brother.”

Sergio immediately protested.

“I have things to do!”

Daniel nodded.

“So do I.”

“But you’re the eldest!”

There it was again.

The magical sentence.

Daniel smiled.

“And you’re the owner of seven houses.”

Silence.

My father-in-law slammed his hand on the table.

“Are you threatening us because of the properties?”

“No.”

Daniel’s voice remained calm.

“You already distributed them.”

“I agreed with your decision.”

“I even applauded.”

“Then why are you behaving like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re abandoning your parents!”

Daniel pulled out the financial records.

He placed them on the table.

“Over five years, Clara and I have paid more than 420,000 yuan toward this family.”

My mother-in-law looked away.

Daniel continued.

“Sergio received help with his wedding, car, living expenses and now seven apartments.”

“That’s fine.”

“I accepted it.”

“But you cannot give all your assets to one son and all your obligations to the other.”

Nobody spoke.

Then Lucía suddenly said:

“Those apartments haven’t produced any money yet.”

I looked at her.

“Then rent them.”

Her face tightened.

“We were planning to keep them.”

“For what?”

“Investment.”

I smiled.

“Wonderful. Then your investment can finance your parents’ medical care.”

Sergio stood.

“You two are being calculating over family!”

Daniel looked at him.

“Then give me three of the apartments.”

Sergio froze.

“What?”

“If family shouldn’t calculate, transfer three to me.”

“Those are mine!”

Daniel smiled.

“Exactly.”

“And our salaries are ours.”

That ended the argument.

Or it should have.

Instead, my mother-in-law started crying.

“How did my eldest son become like this?”

Daniel’s expression softened for a moment.

Then he said:

“Because being responsible became the reason you thought you could take from me forever.”

She stopped crying.

“You always said Sergio needed more because I was capable.”

“When he failed, you helped him.”

“When I succeeded, you asked me for more.”

“When Clara and I paid, it was our duty.”

“When Sergio received, it was his need.”

Daniel shook his head.

“I don’t hate you.”

“But I’m done participating.”

My father-in-law pointed at the door.

“Then go!”

Daniel nodded.

“We will.”

That frightened him more than anger would have.

Because he’d expected Daniel to surrender.

The eldest son always surrendered.

Except this time he didn’t.

We left the following week.

The first month in Xinjiang felt strange.

No Sunday family emergencies.

No sudden requests for money.

No calls asking us to pay something “first.”

Our company housing was larger than our old apartment.

Our combined income increased dramatically.

For the first time in years, we saved more than we sent away.

Three months later, my mother-in-law called.

Sergio had rented out two apartments.

She wanted us to know.

“That’s good,” I said.

Then came the real reason.

“Your father’s treatment costs almost five thousand this month.”

I waited.

She waited.

Finally I asked:

“And?”

Silence.

“Could Daniel…”

“You should speak with Sergio.”

She sighed.

“Your brother says the rent belongs to him.”

“Then perhaps you and Dad should discuss the arrangement you made.”

She hung up.

Half a year later, something unexpected happened.

My father-in-law sold one apartment.

Not to spend the money.

He transferred part of the proceeds into an account reserved for his and my mother-in-law’s future medical and living expenses.

Apparently dependence felt less romantic when the responsible son lived thousands of kilometers away.

Sergio was furious.

Daniel wasn’t.

“They’re learning,” he told me.

A year later, we returned for New Year.

The atmosphere was completely different.

Nobody asked us to pay.

Nobody mentioned that Daniel was the eldest.

My father-in-law poured him tea.

Then, awkwardly, he said:

“I was unfair.”

Daniel looked at him.

“I know.”

His father probably expected something softer.

Daniel didn’t give it.

But he stayed for dinner.

Sometimes forgiveness doesn’t need to erase the lesson.

On our flight home, I asked Daniel something that had bothered me since that first family meeting.

“What if your father had given you one apartment?”

Daniel smiled.

“We still would’ve moved.”

“Two?”

“Still moving.”

“Three?”

He laughed.

“Clara.”

“Then why wait for the distribution?”

He looked out the window.

“Because I needed to know whether I was leaving with guilt.”

I became quiet.

“If they’d treated us fairly,” he continued, “I would have spent years wondering whether moving away made me a bad son.”

“But when Dad handed everything to Sergio and still expected us to carry everything else…”

He squeezed my hand.

“…he answered the question for me.”

Then I finally understood why my husband had applauded.

It wasn’t sarcasm.

It wasn’t defeat.

It wasn’t even revenge.

Daniel had spent his whole life being told that the eldest son should understand, sacrifice, provide and forgive.

So when his father handed seven houses to Sergio, Daniel did something nobody expected.

He accepted the decision completely.

The properties went to Sergio.

And for the first time…

so did the responsibility that came with them.